"Mother," she said, "I think it is a good idea to get Harry out of the country. He is very bad-tempered, and if the Germans come here and are impudent to us he'll certainly get himself shot!"
"I! I haven't the courage of a caterpillar!" protested Darrel.
"You're the worst fibber in the Ardennes! You did kill that grey boar this morning! What do you mean by telling us that you went up a tree! Maxl, the garde-de-chasse at the Silverwiltz gate, heard your shot and came up. And you told him to dress the boar and send a cart for it. Which he did!—you senseless prevaricator!"
"Oh, my!" said Darrel meekly.
"And you're wearing a bandage below your knee where the boar bit you when you gave him the coup-de-grâce! Maxl washed and bound it for you! What a liar you are, Harry! Does it hurt?"
"To be a liar?"
"No! where you were tusked?"
"Maxl was stringing you, fair maid," he said lightly.
"He wasn't! You walk lame!"
"Laziness and gout account for that débutante slouch of mine. But of course if you care to hold my hand——"